


Damn it, Jim

by Unforth



Series: Tumblr Ficlets: Other Fandoms [10]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-28
Updated: 2017-05-28
Packaged: 2018-11-06 00:13:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11024535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unforth/pseuds/Unforth
Summary: Tumblr ficlet in reply to a request that I write literally ANY Star Trek TOS that I felt like.





	Damn it, Jim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pherryt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/gifts).



> You can follow me on Tumblr at [unforth-ninawaters](unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com).
> 
>  
> 
> [~original post~](http://unforth-ninawaters.tumblr.com/post/161168198773/dragonpressgraphics-asked-me-to-write-anything)

“Damn it, Jim.” Bones sighed, knocked the malfunctioning medical tricorder against a rock. 

The rock cracked.

“I warned you,” said Jim, skirting the line between jocular and defensive. “Plan A: talk to the natives and try to convince them to give over their honor system to let Spock go. Plan B: attempt to barter with the natives if talk doesn’t work. And Plan C–”

“Get shot by the Juranian leader after accidentally suggesting that you’d trade 50,000 bottles of Ferengi spice wine for his daughter?” Bones rolled his eyes and jabbed Jim more firmly than necessary as he felt around what Jim suspected as a dislocated or broken collar bone.

“Perhaps that wasn’t _entirely_  according to plan,” Jim conceded, struggling to keep pain from his voice. “How was I supposed to know something was wrong with the universal translator?” Definitely not pained.

It didn’t hurt. 

Much.

Okay, it hurt a lot. But they were in a bad situation, and Jim needed to suck it up, and Bones _knew_  that, so why…

“Damn it, Jim,” Bones muttered again. The tricorder gave a pathetic beep-beep and then fizzled, literally, smoke dissipating in a light breeze that stirred sand around them. None of their equipment had worked right since Scotty had beamed them planet side.

It would have been really nice to have known that _before_  they were trapped in some horrible clone of earth circa 2056.

“Alright, here’s the plan - eh, eh!” Jim interrupted as Bones opened his mouth to interrupt. Snapping it shut again, Bones gave him a sour look and began probing gently around the gunshot wound in Jim’s side. Pain spiked red across Jim’s vision and he struggled to think clearly, to speak steadily, to keep his hands from shaking. “Plan _D_ : You put a bandage over that thing and then go distract them - they haven’t met you yet, they should at least _consider_  speaking with you - while I sneak around the back of their complex, get inside, and find Spock.”

“That’s it,” said Bones flatly, hands freezing mid-prod. “ _That’s_  your plan?”

“I know,” Jim sighed. “I hate to expose you like that - you know I wouldn’t if I could avoid it - but we’re out of options.” The communicators were offline. There was no rescue coming imminently, no way to beam to safety or have someone beam down to help them, and they’d already tried and failed to simply teleport Spock to freedom. “You and diplomacy are oil and water but…well, it’s for Spock.”

“Isn’t it always,” muttered Bones, so softly that Jim wasn’t sure he’d heard him right.

“Everything will be fine,” Jim said soothingly. “Just be your usual charming, beguiling, enticing self. They won’t shoot you. Probably.”

“ _Damnation_ , Jim, I’m worried about _you_!” Bones looked up as suddenly as Jim looked down, their faces so close together that it was only by a hairs-breadth that Bones avoided slamming his forehead into Jim’s chin. Every over-quick, impassioned breath Bones blew out ghosted over Jim’s lips.

_Wait, what?_

He swallowed hard. He should…he should move.

But he kind of…really…didn’t want to.

With an incoherent snarled curse, Bones brought their lips together. Shocked, Jim didn’t reciprocate, even as pleasure trickled warmth that did a surprisingly effective job of quelling the pain from his wounds.

 _Wait,_ what _???_

“Bones?” Jim breathed.

“Just…just be careful.” Bones was suddenly all business again, all professional, ungently laying his palm against Jim’s wounded shoulder and shoving him back. Despite his efforts not to, Jim grunted in pain. “Sorry,” Bones muttered. He glanced up, blue eyes dazzling even through the thin mask of his eyelashes. “Didn’t mean to…do…really any of that…please be careful, Jim?”

Jim tried to lift his hands, but only one responded, his injured arm dead-weight at his side. Scarce aware what he was doing, he scooped his fingers around Bones’ chin and dragged him up into a second sloppy kiss. Bones made a hitched, pained sound, lips scarce working against Jim’s, and when Jim let him go, he drew away. His eyes were wide, incredibly blue, and for the first time Jim dared to entertain hopes that he’d always, always, _always_  quelled in the past.

“I’m always careful, Len.”

“Good.”


End file.
